This crazy, 100-degree springtime heat wave means it's time to bust out the doc marten sandals - shoes I almost forgot I had until yesterday.
I adore these shoes. The footbed feels like it was made for my feet and while they're technically sandals, they're very sturdy - something I like in a shoe.
It would seem that I like my feet to be well-protected at all times. See my post about breaking my toe for some insight into the love affair I've had with my feet since I was wee.
So, as I was walking to my car today along an ordinary sidewalk in an ordinary suburb, I stepped on a crooked piece of concrete and fell right off my damn shoe. I almost went down like an old lady drunk on white zin.
Somehow I caught myself - and my camera gear - and popped right back to vertical like it never happened. All those weekly ballet classes I had when I was five really paid off today.
And thank god my ankles, while amazingly dainty and slender (seriously - don't make me post a picture to prove it), seem to have the strength of ten longshoremen. It's an anatomical marvel, really. My foot should have snapped right off and flown into the middle of the street. Thanks, mom, for making me drink all that milk.